


Payment for Time Served

by allochthonous (cynicalshoes)



Category: Primeval
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:46:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynicalshoes/pseuds/allochthonous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Connor gets into some trouble with the police, it’s up to Lester to bail him out. No favour comes for free, however...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Payment for Time Served

Connor stared at the concrete floor glumly. Two hours. He'd been in this cell for two hours. They'd questioned him for almost that long, too, that upstart inspector and his sneering constable sidekick. Some plod had caught him trying to break into a boarded up shop three blocks from an anomaly site. Well, technically it had already been broken into by the juvenile _Cynognathus_ Connor was chasing, but he couldn't exactly tell the police that, could he? Seems there'd been a string of burglaries in the area and the inspector needed someone for it, Connor being as good a candidate as anyone else. Connor protested his innocence and told them to call the ARC. Someone there could sort this out. Any minute now.

When the cell door swung open Connor jumped up hopefully. His stomach dropped half a second later. It was Lester. He was speaking quietly to the guard, explaining something. The guard nodded and told him to knock when he wanted out. He closed the door and locked it with a smirk before flicking closed the observation window.

Lester stood by the door with his arms crossed. Connor fidgeted in the silence. He couldn't stand Lester's glare for long, and he soon dropped his head to gaze at his feet. Lester let him suffer like this for several minutes, until the atmosphere of disapproval and disdain was unbearable, and Connor had to look up and say pleadingly, "Lester, I'm so--"

"What did I say, Connor?" Lester interrupted, as if this was the cue he'd been waiting for all this time.

Connor winced. "You said if I got in trouble--"

"If you were arrested again," Lester corrected loudly.

"If I got arrested again," Connor repeated dutifully, "I'd have to get myself out. But I didn't get arrested this time! They just questioned me and were only going to hold me until someone--"

Lester raised a hand to silence him. There was a steel-honed edge to him Connor had hardly ever seen, and it had never before been directed at him. "I have come here all the way from the office. I have had to deal with atrocious mid-day traffic, asinine desk sergeants and an idiotic detective inspector with the personal charm, not to mention hygiene, of a dead badger. All to get you 'out of trouble'. How do you think you're going to get out of this, Connor? How do you think you're going to repay me?" The emphasis on _repay_ dripped with intent.

Connor swallowed hard. Surely he didn't mean... Lester's threats where Connor was involved had lately had a certain innuendo to them, but... He couldn't think with Lester's expectant gaze on him. His mind had frozen. He had nothing to say.

Lester tutted at his silence. He raised one finger in the air and twirled it slowly. Connor could think of no other gesture that was so effortlessly and cruelly foreboding. He had never felt so powerless.

Connor swallowed again. His throat was dry. "In here?" he rasped, his anxiety growing.

Lester smiled callously. "We won't be disturbed. The custody sergeant I spoke to understands something about unruly guests." The unyielding look in Lester's eye said it all. Connor dropped his eyes again, and slowly turned on the spot until he was facing the wall.

He could hear the satisfaction in Lester's voice. "Good. Take off your trousers."

Connor did so shakily, his hands fumbling with the zips. Behind him he could hear the slide of Lester's belt and his breath caught, imagining vividly for a moment that leather wrapped tight around his wrists, or being flailed against his skin. He shut his eyes against the unanticipated vision and the lick of heat it provoked and continued to undress. He went to step out of his trousers when Lester broke in.

"No. Leave them around your ankles."

Connor looked over his shoulder questioningly, and his eyes were caught by the sight of Lester stroking himself to full hardness, his movements languid, trousers pushed down to his hips, just far enough. He raised a mocking eyebrow and Connor turned back quickly to face the wall. He felt his cheeks redden at Lester's quiet laugh.

"Prepare yourself," Lester ordered.

His hands still shaking slightly Connor put two fingers in his mouth and sucked, coating them with saliva. He could feel the burn of Lester's eyes on him as he spread his legs and reached awkwardly for his puckered hole. There was a quiet inhale from behind him when the first finger broke through the ring of muscle, and Connor took some bitter solace in the fact that Lester at least was not as unaffected as he projected. Still, Connor felt tight and over-tense, and the second finger only added to the feeling of intrusion, the saliva barely doing its job. He scissored his fingers, pushing inside to the knuckle, trying to stretch himself as much as possible.

"That should be enough," Lester drawled. "Here."

Connor turned and only just caught the little foil packet that sailed through the air. He stared at it in confusion.

"Put it on. We wouldn't want you to make a mess, would we?"

Connor tried to open the wrapper but it wouldn't give. He had to resort to tearing it open with his teeth. Somewhere along the line Connor's cock had begun to swell, but it was a struggle to roll the condom over the partially soft flesh.

He heard Lester's footfalls approaching, and leaned forward over the bench to brace himself with both hands on the wall.

Lester's voice came floating over his shoulder to bite at his ear. "Now you're getting into the spirit of things."

Connor felt a hand slide down the bumps of his spine, and then Lester used his feet to push Connor's legs wider apart, until he was straining against his bunched up trousers. Two hands spread his arse cheeks and Connor almost jumped when the head of Lester's cock nudged against his hole.

"I do hope you're ready," Lester murmured, and with a single burning movement he pushed into Connor, burying himself to the hilt.

Connor gasped and choked down a dry sob. He tried to focus on other things; Lester's fingers digging bruises into Connor's hips, the cold concrete under his hands.

This technique only worked for so long. Soon Lester began to move, short, sharp thrusts that had Connor gasping with prickling pleasure that arrived disguised as pain, and despite this his cock filled to full hardness, ignorant of the context.

Lester ground out a curse. "Fuck, Connor, you're so tight. Don't you do this every night? Play with your own arse, thinking of all the men you'd like instead, claiming you, fucking you, using you like a toy?"

Connor groaned, he whined, he held back a cry. At the words, at the pain sparking into electrifying pleasure, at his traitorous cock. He was painfully erect now, and it felt like the ache increased and throbbed with every beat of his heart.

Lester laughed, and Connor thought it sounded like the bubbling over of acid. "You can touch yourself, Connor," he allowed, "goodness knows I can't do everything for you."

Connor dropped a hand from the wall gratefully, sagging under every hard thrust until he could adjust his weight. He actually cried out in relief when his hand touched his cock. It felt unnaturally hot in his own hand, and he fumbled with short, uneven strokes.

"There you go," Lester sneered. "That's not so strange now, is it?" And then the quality of Lester's thrusts changed; he drew out further and then ground back in hard and fast, jarring Connor with each thrust. He found himself unconsciously matching his own strokes to the unforgiving rhythm. Lester was panting with the effort, little grunts with every thrust. The hands on Connor's hips were slick with sweat.

One of those hands slid up his back and Connor could feel it grind over every vertebrae before it stopped at the joint of his shoulder blades, and without warning _pushed_. Connor's hand slipped down the wall and he had to prop himself up on his forearm to keep from crashing into the bench. The new angle had the surely unintentional side-effect of allowing Lester's cock to stroke that spot inside him on every thrust. Connor could hold it in no more, and he cried out each time Lester's cock hit home in his arse. He couldn't help it; the pain and pleasure sparked and crackled and overrode his nervous system. The hand on his back maintained its pressure, and the other snaked around to Connor's front. He thought for a delirious moment that Lester was going to help finish him off, _so close now_ , but the hand that was now around his own stilled and squeezed at the base of his cock.

Lester pressed tight against Connor's back, his lips once more to Connor's ear. "Would you like to hear my theory?" he asked, so composed after all this, only the slightest hitch in his voice to suggest he was buried balls deep in some bloke bent over in a prison cell. "I think you _allowed_ yourself to be caught. I think you were hoping one of these nice men with the handcuffs and batons would teach you a lesson."

Connor keeled like a wounded animal, and he didn't think the hand on his cock could get any tighter but it managed. He began to rutt into it, seeking any sort of pressure, fucking himself back on Lester's cock in the same movement.

"Or maybe," Lester continued, but his breathing was growing ragged now, "you were hoping _I_ would come. Is that what you wanted, Connor? You wanted me to bend you over and fuck you until you knew your place?"

Connor whined again, his jaws clenching in the effort to hold back the sound. Eyes he hadn't realized had closed flew open when he felt Lester's hard slap to his arse. His muscles convulsed of their own accord and for that brief moment, clenched around Lester's cock, he felt more filled than he ever had before.

"Answer me!" Lester ordered,--Connor could imagine his hand poised for another slap, the sweet tug of a leather belt--"You wanted me to fuck you," Lester repeated.

"Yes," Connor hissed, lost and desperate, his voice hoarse and cracked. "Fuck, God, please yes fuck me--"

Lester had regained his leverage and every thrust pounded into Connor, and like a hammer to iron sparks flew and spread and jittered across his skin. The ache was so heavy and so _good_ , his body didn't know if it wanted to break to pieces or be put back together. The sounds that left his mouth were beyond obscene.

"Hush now," Lester ordered. "Do you want someone to come in and check on things? D'you want an audience? D'you want this to go viral?"

Now the dam was broken and Connor couldn't shore it. "Yes! Fuck please I--I want someone--I want everyone to see... see you fuck me--own me--"

Connor moaned at a particularly vicious thrust, his body shaking with the effort of staying on his feet.

"Maybe you want them to join in," Lester suggested harshly through sharp pants, "d'you want to be shared around with every punter here?"

"No," Connor sobbed, "f--fuck, just you, just you--"

Lester's hand had finally relented its grip and was now jerking Connor off furiously to match the uneven pace Lester's own thrusts had descended into.

Whatever pleas or words or sounds came out of his own mouth Connor was lost to. His senses seemed only capable of registering Lester pounding into his arse and the hand pulling roughly on his own cock. There was a gasp, and Lester shuddered and came with a start. The hand on his cock squeezed around his fingers again and increased its pace as Lester brought him to frantic, breathless completion. It took only seconds, and he came with a white hot heat that raced along his nerves to his core where it struck like a bolt of lightning. He cried out, the sound keening to a high-pitched whine.

He felt his legs tremble, and his supporting arm was numb and finally gave way. Lester caught him with an arm around his middle and managed to turn them both before they flopped down face first into the sofa.

Connor remembered several minutes of panting, pressed up awkwardly against Lester's side, an ear crushed to Lester's ribcage, and the racing heartbeat within. The tingling left his extremities like the fading out of fireworks in the night sky. When he could breath, and when he could speak, and when he felt he could do both at once, he said, "wow."

"Considering this was your idea I was hoping for more syllables," Lester huffed, "but that'll do." He slung a shaky arm around Connor's shoulder and pressed his lips into the sweaty skin at the crook of Connor's neck.

When Connor felt he could move he sat up a little, pulled off the condom, tied off the top and chucked it in a direction that made Lester cringe. He flailed his legs about until one foot came free of his pants and trousers, but gave the other one up as a bad job. Then he rolled onto his side, hissing through his teeth as the relatively cool air of the flat hit his sore, sore arse. He threw his legs onto the sofa, and prodded at Lester until he moved enough to allow Connor to rest his head on Lester's thigh. Then he was still.

A hand threaded its way into his hair, and through the ear pressed against Lester's leg Connor imagined he could hear Lester's heart rate slowing to normal.

"James..." A thought occurred to him. " _D'you want it to go viral?_ " he quoted.

"I was improvising," Lester muttered defensively. "I heard it on the telly."

Connor couldn't hold back the laugh. Lester rapped him lightly on the head with his knuckles, then continued aimlessly massaging Connor's scalp with a slow tense and release of his fingers. Connor was quiet again, and then--

"Viral, huh? Now there's an idea..."


End file.
